Sweeney Todd: A Novelisation
by Anonamazing
Summary: 'Bracing his razor, he lifted the lid of the box and took a step back as the pungent smell of freshly shed blood stabbed at his sinuses. Sweeney breathed deeply, opening his fist and allowing the limp body to collapse back into the chest. To kill a fellow barber, Sweeney realised, was a messy business indeed.' A novelisation of Tim Burton's version of 'Sweeney Todd'.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hey guys! This one is literally a novelization of the musical version of Sweeney Todd. I've thrown in some flashbacks and some references to the original penny dreadful, if you can find them. Skimmed in with verses from the songs, I wrote this when I was thirteen, so you'll have to forgive whatever foibles lie within- re-reading my writing from when I was younger is embarrassing for me, so I've just skimmed over it and hoped for the best ;D But, its doing no good filed away on my computer, so I thought I'd unleash it on the world. Enjoy!**

**Chapter One: There's No Place Like London**

Anthony Hope stood upon the deck of the SS Bountiful, beaming at the dawn now rising over the fog-strewn city before him. The Bountiful was about to make port in old London town, after a 60 day voyage sailing from Plymouth, on which it had traveled through the Peruvian mountains, the famous Dardanelles and even docked in Italy. Anthony, a fresh-faced lad approaching the end of his teenage years, had signed up under the Bountiful's crew as a pure spur-of-the-moment decision, and with little but the clothes on his back and a mind set on adventure had left his home life in Plymouth for a chance to see the wide world. The ocean smelt less crisp here than in any of the places Anthony had sailed, with smoggy undertones weighing down the salty air, but it felt good to be back all the same. Anthony could barley contain his joy at the thought of seeing his family once more, of sharing all his stories of adventure and discovery with them. In several days time, he would be returning home, but would first spend some time in the Capital City, in the hope of absorbing some of it's rich culture and adding to his list of adventures.

Absent-mindedly, Anthony started humming beneath his breath.

"I have sailed the world, beheld it's wonders, from the Dardanelles, to the mountains of Peru. But there's no place like London."

"Right you are, Anthony; there is truly no other place like London."

Anthony swiveled on his heel to see to whom the second voice belonged. He squinted as the voice's owner approached through the darkness, and seeking explanation asked wearily;

"Mr. Todd?"

The slender figure of Sweeney Todd broke free of it's silhouette and rested its palms upon the balustrade of the ship. A gaunt-looking figure, a man of indeterminable age with strong, chiseled features, dark eyes and a curious flash of white through his ebony hair, he gave an aura of being impressively respectable and decent, yet at the same time something about his appearance left all in his presence slightly unnerved, although none could quite understand why.

"You are young," said the man, "Life has been kind to you. You will learn."

Anthony furrowed his brow, and was about to speak when Mr. Todd continued his speech.

"There's a whole in the world like a great black pit,

And the vermin of the world inhabit it,

And it's morals aren't worth what a pig could spit,

And it goes by the name of London."

He almost spat the last word, his eyes fixed on the grey city in front of him.

"At the top of the hole sit a privileged few,

Making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo,

Turning beauty into filth and greed; I too have sailed the world and seen it's wonders,

For the cruelty of men is as wondrous as Peru,

But there's no place like London."

The two men stood in silence for the remaining few minutes simply staring into the gloom, until at last the ship docked and they made their way off the boat.

Once there feet made contact with the cobbled ground, Sweeney Todd gave a noticeable shudder and held a sharp intake of breath. "I'll miss the Bountiful," said Anthony, stroking the name of the ship imprinted on its side. "And I'll miss you, Mr. Todd. You have been good company for me on this long voyage, and a good friend."

Sweeney Todd stared blankly at the floor.

"...Mr. Todd? Are you alright, Sir?"

Sweeney straightened himself quickly and said in a morose voice, "I beg your indulgence, Anthony. You see, in these once familiar streets I now feel nothing but shadows."

"Shadows, Sir?"

"...Ghosts."

_-15 years ago-_

_Benjamin Barker, Fleet Street's modest yet most highly skilled barber, walked through the flower market with his wife, Lucy, and newborn baby daughter. They were his world, his everything. Lucy, with beautiful yellow hair and the most unusual grey eyes, dabbled with different shades of blues and greens, and the most unconditional, kind, humble personality he had ever known. To him she was perfect._

_And his dearest Johanna, who had inherited her darling mother's hair and eyes, was everything Benjamin could have wished for. A modest life they lead, living above the street's pie and pastry shop, but an incredibly happy one._

_But on that day, the tables turned and Benjamin Barker's world was turned upside down with them. A pious, corrupt Judge coveted his dear Lucy, for her unusual beauty and memorising personality. He wanted her, and, being a man of power, had the means to get her. The equally corrupt Beadle had young Benjamin Barker sentenced and deported on a petty false charge, leaving his poor innocent young wife all alone with a baby daughter to look after and no means of doing so- and she would fall, so soft, so young, so lost and oh, so beautiful..._

"...and the lady, Sir?" Asked Anthony, snapping Todd out of his trance, "did she succumb?"

Mr. Todd looked as though his heart were about to break.

"Oh, that was many years ago... I doubt if anyone would know."

He cleared his throat and turned to the sailor lad. "I thank you kindly, Anthony," said Sweeney, "If you hadn't spotted me, I'd have still been trapped in that infernal place."

"Will I see you again?"

Mr. Todd paused, seemingly lost in thought. "You might find me if you wish," he said, "Around Fleet Street, I shouldn't wonder."

"Well then," smiled Anthony, outstretching his hand, "until we meet again, my friend."

Sweeney looked with surprise at the welcoming gesture, recalling that this would be his first human contact of any kind in two years- except when the Bountiful's cook had accidentally bumped into him on deck and a grocer's arm had brushed against his own whilst getting off the ship. He blinked to compose himself, jutting out his hand and gripping Anthony's in his own, and with two sharp shakes, released the boy, swung his bag over his shoulder and made his way slowly through the dank streets of old London town.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Worst Pies in London**

Sweeney navigated the early morning streets with impeccable ease- 15 years and he still knew the place better than the back of his own hand. He passed a filthy half-empty opium den, a so-called 'Gentlemen's' Club which several male members of the higher class of society were attempting to sneak out of before the full light of day, three moaning drunken men who had collapsed in a heap on the pavement and a small gathering of soot-coated chimney sweep lads, waiting half-asleep on a metal flight of stairs, clearly for their boss. After passing through a dark alleyway from which several strumpets were being evacuated by a tired-looking copper, dismissing a cocky young lad with a pick-pocket grin on his slightly grubby face and narrowly avoiding being crushed by a unruly carriage horse, Sweeney finally reached Fleet Street. He strode steadily through until he was stood directly afront his destination- Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop.

The shop had changed somewhat- the once bright sign advertising _'Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium- Home of the Best Pies in London!'_ was now faded and drab,and the lace drapes behind the smeared windows, before pure white and inviting, had become yellowish and frayed.

Sweeney brushed a lose strand from his white streak back into it's rightful place and approached the door. He stopped outside it, cautiously staring through the blurred glass window at the dusty shop. The blurred outline of who he presumed to be Mrs. Lovett, was stood behind a kitchen counter, hitting a mound of uncooked pastry with a rolling pin, her wild hair bouncing slightly with each jolt. He pressed his face more closely to the glass to get a better look, but the loosely hinged door swung inwards by a fraction- just enough to ring the shop's entrance bell.

Nellie Lovett's head snapped upwards, suddenly vibrantly alert, and she gasped at the first person apart from herself and the odd beggar boy to open the shop's door in over a month.

"A customer!"

Sweeney Todd's eyes widened and he made to back out of the shop, but the woman was already upon him like a vulture.

"Wait!" She shrieked, a desperate, beaming grin upon her face, "where's your rush?! Where's you're hurry?! Oh, you gave me such a fright I thought you was a ghost half a minute! won'cha sit?" She beamed, patting him on the shoulders as to direct him towards a seat, "sit ye' down, sit! All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks!" She scurried back behind her workbench in a fluster and began to meaninglessly pick up various utensils, only to replace them pointlessly back were they were. "Did you come here for a pie, sir?"

Todd nodded stiffly in bewilderment.

"Do forgive me if me 'eds a little vague- ugh!" She flicked a bug from the counter and squashed the vile insect with her foot."What was that?!" She murmured, scraping her foot back and forth before continuing, "but you'd think we had the plague from the way that people keep avoidin'. Heaven knows I try, sir, but there's no one comes in even to inhale-" she dropped a disgusting-looking, ancient meat pie in front of the man, "right you are, sir, would you like a drop of ale?" Sweeney nodded briskly once more, and she flashed a dazzling smile and swished over to the ale taps, "Mind you," she said empathetically, as Mr. Todd cautiously fingered the pie,"I can hardly blame 'em. These have gotta be the worst pies in London. I know why nobody cares to take them- I should know, I make em- but good? No." She blew a dusty glass and filled it with stale-smelling ale, "The worst pies in London," she stated again, " well, even that's polite; the worst pies in London... if you dare to take a bite?"

Sweeney raised the flaking heap to his lips and reluctantly tore some away from the mass, almost choking on the revolting taste. Mrs. Lovett looked highly sympathetic and quickly removed the pie from his presence. "Ain't that just discustin'?"

Sweeney sat, still bewildered-looking, his mind saying yes, but, no wanting to offend her, he remained silent.

"Oh, no need to consed it, Dearie. Ain't nothing but crusting. Here-" she plonked the watered-down ale in front of him, "Drink this; you'll need it." Mr. Todd discreetly spat away the remnants of pie, then glugged down the ale in an attempt to wash away the unsavory taste. Unfortunately, the ale was as vile as the pie, and he almost choked on the putrid stuff. Mrs. Lovett hadn't seemed to have noticed this, and was still jabbering away. "Like I said, Sir, them there have got to be the worst pies in London. And no wonder, with the price of meat what it is when you get it- never thought I'd live to see the day! Many think it a treat finding poor animals what are dying in the street!" At this point she had discarded the pie and was now bludgeoning a pile of dough with the head of her rolling pin. "Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop," she said, and at this the pin's thuds became more solid, "Does her business, good and proper, but I've noticed something a little odd, if you ask me; lately all her neighbors cats have dissapeared!" At this point she raised her eyes expectantly, and Mr. Todd raised his eyebrows in a way that gave the impression of deepest surprise as she shook her own. "Have to hand it to her- what a choice enterprise, popping pussies into pies. Wouldn't do is my shop; just the thought of it's enough to make ye' sick! And I'm tellin' ya, them pussy cats be quick. No denying times is hard sir," she said, drifting back to his table, rolling pin still in hand, "even harder than the worst pies in London, could you believe? Only lard n' nothing more, is that just revolting, all greasy, n' gritty. It looks like it's molting n' tastes like-" she paused, remembering her standing as a lady, "...well, pity. A woman alone with limited wind, and the worst pies in London... Ah, sir. Times is hard." She sighed, sitting down opposite him, "Times in hard."

She swatted a bug on the table with her rolling pin, sending splashes of the aged ale flying in all directions.

"Trust me, Dearie," she sighed, "it's gonna take a lot more than just ale to wash that taste down. Come with me," she rose from her chair and set the rolling pin at the table, "we'll get you a nice tumbler of gin, eh?"

He hesitantly rose and followed the woman through a side door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three- Poor Thing**

The door lead into a grubby living room, gaudily decorated with an assortment of brightly embroidered cushions, ragged carpets and lace doilies suffocating every surface.

"Ain't this homey, now?" She beamed, "the cheery wallpaper was a proper bargin n'all. T'was only partly singed when the old chapel burnt down." Mrs. Lovett filled a tall glass with clear liquid, and offered it to Mr. Todd.

"E'are, you sit down n' warm yer bones."

He took the glass and examined the space. "You got a room over this shop, haven't you?"

Mrs. Lovett nodded brightly.

"Well... Times is so hard, why don'tcha rent it out?"

"Up there?" She simmered, glancing at the celing, "Nah, no one'll go near it. People reccon it's haunted."

"Haunted?"

"Yeah," said Nellie with a roll of her eyes, "N' whose to say their wrong?" She smirked darkly, obviously not a great fan of the superstition. But then, something altered her face, and she became solemn. "Y'see, years ago sommat happened up there... Somethin' not very nice."

Sweeney Todd's face soon became blurred as Mrs. Lovett began to tell the tale.

"There was this barber and his wife, you see. And he was beautiful..." She took a cake knife from the side table and held it to the light.

"Proper artist with a knife, he was- but then they transported him for life..." Her gaze left the knife and she lowered it back to it's place on the table.

"Barker, his name was. Benjamin Barker."

_-15 years ago-_

_Three weeks had passed since Benjamin Barker had been deported from England. Of course, this hadn't made a noticeable change to London's streets- perhaps the odd gentleman's stubble was slightly more pronounced than it had previously been- but other than that, the transport of young Mr. Barker left no hole in the general Londener's lives. In a certain establishment on Fleet Street, however, it had made an almost unbelievable change to the building's inhabitants. Least effected of the four was baby Johanna, who, apart from crying slightly more regularly, had not undergone any changes. Secondly, Albert Lovett, owner of the building, was missing his friend and weekly free shave, and the rent money he would have otherwise received- but, out of the goodness of both his and his wife's hearts, it was decided that young Lucy Barker and her daughter would have free residency of the Fleet Street establishment. Nellie Lovett came third, effected rather heavily- not only had she lost the rent and a sparing morning chat at breakfast time with the Barker's (depending on how busy the shop was) which she rather looked forward to, she had now lost not only Ben (though, although she was a married woman ['have at you, Nellie!', she'd scold herself, 'lookin at o'nther man that way when you got a perfectly decent 'uspand of your own here still alive n' kickin'!] She had to admit a certain soft spot for), but was losing the close bond she had maintained with her neighbor dear Lucy, who was deteriorating with panic and stress every day. Through looking after Lucy and her girl, combined with Albert's worsening illness, Mrs. Lovett's pies gradually got lower and lower down her list of priorities, and the quality of them deteriorated until almost every customer of theirs had left their loyalties and trapsed a few streets away to Mrs. Mooney's pie shop. Pretty soon, the four of them were living off nothing but the cost of a couple of pies and the monthly wages brought in by Albert's stay-at-home job as a books keeper- with the gout in his leg, he could no longer attend outside work._

_After a month or so of living in this state, dear Lucy was in a state of constant guilt._

_"I'll find work, Nellie," she said one morning, "as a- a dressmaker. Yes, something like that. I'm not brilliant at it, but I can use a needle decently... You and Albert have been so kind, and all the money you've lost because of-"_

_"Nonsense!" Cried Mrs. Lovett, "you'll do no such thing! Don't you worry about Albert and me, we'll get by, all of us. Besides, with you at work all day, me running around the shop and Albert doing his books, who'll care for little Johanna?"_

_This seemed to stunt Lucy's employment venture, but money was becoming increasingly difficult to stretch. The girl was more desperate by the day, and it was at this point that Judge Turpin pounced. _

_It began one Wednesday morning- Lucy was tending to crying baby Johanna when she noticed a man outside the window. _

_The Judge, the Beadle next to him, was holding a single rose up to her window, a beaming, arrogant smile on his face. Lucy tried to ignore him. _

_The next day, the Judge returned, this time with a bunch of roses and a slightly faltered smile. The barber's wife once again ignored him._

_This continued for days on end, the flower arrangement getting larger and the look on the judges face more pathetic as time went on, until one day practically an entire florists was burying the judge, who had the look of a lost puppy dog molded into his middle-aged features._

_"I'll talk to him," said Nellie that afternoon, seeing the distress on her friend's features, "coming around here after all he's done. You just wait, tomorrow morning I'll give him a piece of my mind- no, a piece of my fist- and he won't be turning up on our doorstep again, mark me!"_

_But later that evening, the bell to the upstairs quarters was rang, and Lucy Barker opened the side door to Beadle Bamford, who politely explained that the Judge was simply trying to express his remorse over the accidental deportation of her dear husband, how he blames himself totally for her dreadful plight, and how she must go straight to his house tonight to discuss everything he could do within his power to improve her situation and that of those in her household. _

_Lucy took Johanna downstairs and begged the Lovett's to care for her for just an hour or two, but upon explaining the reasons, the couple were most suspicious. Albert vowed to go with her himself, but the gout made impossible._

_"I'll be fine, dearest Albert. I must go- what if the Judge can bring Ben home?!"_

_The two tried their hardest to talk her out of it, but her mind was set. Her sweet, innocent young mind was set on a belief that this corrupt, vicious man of the law had seen the error of his ways and converted, and now wanted nothing more than redemption, forgiveness and the chance to return things to how they were._

_Unfortunately__, this was not the case. _

_At half eleven, with Lucy still not home, Albert declared he would march to the Judge's house to find her regardless of his crippling condition. Of course, this was never to work, and he refused to let Nellie out onto the dark London streets at such a time. The couple stayed awake all night._

_It wasn't until 5am the next day that any sign was seen of Lucy Barker. Mrs. Lovett had been stood at the window, biting her nails and staring down the dim street when a carriage turned into the street. There was a dull thud and as the carriage passed, and it's horses were made to quicken as they dissapeared at the other end of Fleet Street._

_"What was that?" _

_"Carriage, Albert my love."_

_"A carriage? At this time of a morning?"_

_"I know. Proper peculiar, that. ...You don't think-?"_

_In a flash, Nellie was unlocking the shop door and was out onto the street._

_"Nellie, what are you doing, woman? You'll catch your death out there, this time of morning!"_

_"Oh, God- Albert, it's our Lucy! She... she's..."_

"NO!" Roared Sweeney Todd, rising from his seat and dropping his glass of gin onto the thickly-carpeted floor.

There was a pause, and Mrs. Lovett stood, too.

"So it is you- Benjamin Barker!" Her eyes showed joyous disbelief.

"Tell me- tell me what happened- please-"

Mrs. Lovett swallowed. "It was her. They'd thrown her out onto the street as they'd drove past. Alive, bless her, but unconscious. I've never seen anyone in such a pitiable state- shakin', pale as a ghost, her dress was ripped all up the side. She kept muttering something- something about you. It was to indistinct to hear anything but Benjamin-"

"No. Call me Sweeney."

"Oh- alright- but anyway, Albert manged to get outside, bless his heart, and between us we got her inside. Lay her on the sofa and gave her water- she'd obviously been drinking- and sat with her until she calmed down, stopped sobbing and that. I got her in the bath, and honestly, Ben-"

"Sweeney."

"-Sweeney- she was smothered. Her wrists, her arms, her thighs- covered in bruises. A blind man could have seen what they'd done to her. When she was in a better state of mind, she told us through tears- when she'd arrived at the Judge's, they were having a masquerade ball. Lost the Beadle in the crowd, she did. Nearly everyone was drunk, hands all over her, pretty young thing as she was- she wanted to leave, but every time she got near the door, some drunken baboon would sweep her back into the crowd of dancers, hand her another drink and tell her to lighten up and have a dance. She started drinking, out of politeness at first, but eventually she was that pissed up- if you'll pardon the phrase- that she collapsed. Soon after that, the Judge found her. All polite at first, she said, but soon enough- well, you can imagine, poor thing- in front of everyone. And the worst thing, she said, was they all laughed. Laughed, can you believe. Such cruelty I've never come across again in these years. Poor, poor thing."

Sweeney looked stricken.

"...Where is Lucy? Where is my wife?"

His broken, distraught voice made Mrs. Lovett's heart break.

"She poisoned herself," Nellie explained, "Arsenic. From the apothecary 'round the corner. Tried to stop her... But she wouldn't listen to me. Couldn't cope with it- just the thought of what had happened and she'd crumble- that man destroyed Lucy Barker, and no-one and nothing could fix her."

There was silence.

"A-and my Johanna?" His voice cracked. "Where is my girl?"

"He's got her."

_"He?_ Judge Turpin?"

"Adopted her like his own. Guilt, I reckon... does strange things to people."

"15 years," reeled Todd, shrugging off his jacket, "15 years, sweating in a living hell on a false charge. 15 years dreamin' I might come home to a wife and child."

"Well, I can't say the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr. Barker-"

"No; not Barker. That man is dead. It's Todd now. Sweeney Todd." The man took a deep breath. "And he will have his revenge."


End file.
